East of Ashes (2 page)

Thousands upon thousands of knights and even labourers and laymen answered the pope's call to Crusade, no doubt surprising even the pope with their numbers. Killing, raping and torching their way through Caracen lands, they were now drawing close to the city of Antioch, about halfway between Europe and Jerusalem.

As brilliant a political move as the pope's strategy might
have
be
en
, Lamech was disgusted that no-one else seemed to see through the ploy for the power coup
that
it was. Bloodlust and thirst for power ran thickly through the veins of men, enslaving them to the very ideals they thought would bring them freedom. He spat on the ground in front of the priest in disgust.

"You know as well as I do that the time for that has come and gone," he answered the priest, struggling to keep his contempt in check. Now was not the time to get distracted. His fight was with a man with a sword in his hand, not religious rhetoric.

Closing his mind to the embodiment of religious fanaticism standing in front of him, he turned away from the priest and faced his opponent. Some of the onlookers averted their eyes uncomfortably as the priest railed on about damnation, but most of them ignored him.

From the corner of his eye, Lamech noticed his second silently bow his head and stare at the ground.
Yes, I grow tired of it too
, Lamech thought
,
b
ut this is who I have become. This is what I do.

"Let's get this over with," he said to no-one in particular as he looked down at the ground. Although he was staring at the ground as if seeing nothing, he was acutely aware of his adversary's every movement. He pushed his shoulders back, took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. Raising his head he began walking towards his opponent with measured steps.

The small crowd instinctively pushed back as one, giving the two fighters the space they needed.

In answer to the lethal menace approaching him, Lamech's opponent quickly drew his own sword and scurried to his left, holding his sword in his right hand. He kept his knees slightly bent and his left hand stretched out to his side for balance.

Lamech began circling to the right, keeping his prey in sight from the corner of his left eye, not looking at him head
-
on. He held his sword pointed at the ground in front of him, almost as if the danger of the situation was of no concern to him.

The nonchalant promise of brutal violence and
a
quick death was deeply unsettling to Lamech's opponent.

The man bit his lower lip as sweat rolled down the side of his face. His eyes shifted uneasily to the crowd of people around them, seeking some sign that they didn't share his concern, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this fight was going to be over before he had a chance.

His face was now an open book, revealing the condemning thoughts that were twirling in his head. At least he had the presence of mind not to take his eyes off his adversary for too long.

He continued moving to his right, his feet now shuffling in the sand in rapid, uneven steps. His shoulders dropped slightly in preparation of lifting his sword, clearly thinking he stood a chance if he were to catch Lamech off guard with a surprise lunge.

Here it comes
, Lamech thought, bracing for the rush without moving so much as a muscle.

With a blood-curdling roar the man lifted his sword and rushed at Lamech, channelling all his fear and uncertainty into screaming. As he reached Lamech, his sword came down in a brilliant blur of gleaming steel. With apparent ease Lamech parried the blow, twirling around to hack him across his exposed back with
a
down stroke.

But his sword never made contact as his rival managed to deftly swing around and block Lamech's blow, forcing his sword to the side.
He's immensely strong
, Lamech thought before ducking under a wild arc of steel that skimmed just over the top of his head. Strong and fast.

But not fast enough.

Still crouching, Lamech saw his gap as the momentum of the man's wild swing caused him to momentarily have his back towards him. Shifting his weight to his left foot, Lamech shot upwards in a fluid motion. With brutal focus, he willed all his rage into his sword and aimed for his opponent's lower back.

Razor-sharp steel met leather and then flesh. Lamech's rage surged through the blade, keeping it moving forward with unstoppable force as it travelled its entire length through his victim, the point bursting forth from his chest in an explosion of blood and life.

His opponent's eyes bulged in surprise as Lamech grabbed his neck from behind with his left hand, forcing his head back as he pulled him close, holding his sword firmly in place. Lamech stared emotionless
ly
at the red blade sticking out of the man's chest as time seemed to slow down.

The dying man's eyes rolled backwards, trying to focus on the heavens above. Comprehension battled to come forth, but already the light was beginning to fade from his eyes. He desperately tried to keep the darkness from consuming him, but it rushed towards him without mercy.

As he went limp, Lamech pushed him forward, pulling his sword free with experienced ease. Blade dripping, Lamech looked down at his victim, his mouth set in a grim line. He expected to feel some semblance of pity, at the very least regret at another life cut off by his own hands. But all he felt was grim sadness ebbing on the bloodlust burning through his veins.

He became aware of the sudden silence as the rage ringing in his ears faded. He slowly lifted his head to look around him. The wind had quieted down to a light breeze that sent a shiver through the leaves of the nearby trees.

He shifted his gaze to look at the people standing around him. Some were looking at the dead man, but most of them stared at the ground, shocked at how quickly the duel had ended.

Not one of them looked at Lamech.

Bitterness slowly eroded his bloodlust.
You thought you were going to get a good show, didn't you
, he thought as he turned around and walked away.

Yes, a man just died before your eyes. And how I wish it was me.

So shall they fear the name of the Lord from the west
and His glory from the rising of the sun;
When the enemy comes in like a flood,
the Spirit of the Lord
 will lift up a standard against him.
Isaiah 59:19 (NKJV)

CHAPTER 1
--- Avignon, September 1097 ---

Most people get stuck on the outward beauty of a person; marvelling and judging them by their physical appearance.

And yet, there is another kind of beauty - a beauty that has the power to transform the outer. Without it the outer is nothing more than a shell - enjoyable to look at perhaps
,
but ultimately pointless, devoid of any meaning.

The beauty that shines from within, however, enhances the outward beauty into something that is softer, quieter, and even more blinding because of its purity.

When faced with such beauty, a man's world seems to right itself, finding balance and peace amid all the violence and turmoil that life coughs up. It
caus
es a man
to
rise up to his full potential - not in vain pursuit
-
but in a subconscious understanding that protection of such beauty is a lifelong pursuit that would never grow tiring.

Some see this beauty in the shining innocence of a newborn baby's smile. Others get a glimpse of it gazing at the sun slowly dipping into the horizon.

But for Lamech, the reawakening of such beauty in his life began when he met Leala.

It was not that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, yet she possessed a tranquillity about her that brought colour and vibrancy to life. Other more beautiful woman became common and dull compared to the radiance that was Leala.

There was something inside her that shone brilliantly; a mysterious light that only shined brighter the deeper the darkness of society grew.

In the world they lived in, it was deemed a commendable quality - nay, a necessity - to be pious. But for Leala, faith was so much more.

Where others would wander down populous streets, praying out loud so that all could hear and marvel at their spirituality, Leala would seek out quiet pathways along rivers and through green-brushed forests to spend time in silent prayer with her Maker.

In a world where religion was used as both currency and a ladder, Leala seemed to have found that lightning spark that had also set the first disciples apart from the rest of the world.

Lamech did not share her convictions about faith - for him, God was a necessity that was best kept in the dark and brought forth when needed. And he knew with absolute certainty that this was how the world went about it too.

The things that he had seen done in the name of the Almighty made him truly doubt the existence of God. And even if He did exist, then He was most certainly a vengeful, angry and petty God better excluded from one's endeavours.

And love? Love was not a word to be used in the same sentence as God.

And yet, when he looked at Leala and caught a glimpse of life pouring forth from her in rainbows, he knew that if God was the source of it, then He must be capable of immense beauty and grace too.

If it really could be possible to converse with the Lord intimately as friend to friend, Lamech was convinced she had found the secret to doing so.

Such thoughts, however, were far too unsettling and difficult to entertain for long. They left him angry and confused. As always, his best defence was to push them aside and wallow in the simmering darkness inside. At least there he felt comfortable.

And it ha
d
proved very useful in battle.

But for now, these thoughts had to wait. He had more pressing matters to attend to. The object of his fascination was taking a walk in the woods outside the town and he was on his way to find her.

The pathway led past the river, gently winding towards the forest. Glancing back at Avignon, some part of him faintly registered the immeasurable beauty of it.

A flock of birds flew past on their way to the breeding grounds next to the river as Lamech involuntarily breathed in the beautiful sight. It tugged at him, gently struggling to undo the dark chains around his heart.

Instinctively he shut it out and turned his attention back to the pathway. Frowning, he focussed his thoughts, considering why he was out
t
here.

That morning when a servant told him Leala was taking a walk in the forest, he was compelled to go look for her. The fight of a few weeks ago - though not exactly renewing his appreciation for life - did in some way rekindle a hunger for meaning within him. And somehow that hunger seemed to be pushing him towards Leala.